


Light and Roses

by Strange and Intoxicating -rsa- (strangeandintoxicating)



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mild Blood, Possibly Unrequited Love, Technically Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23692519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeandintoxicating/pseuds/Strange%20and%20Intoxicating%20-rsa-
Summary: This is his job. This is what pays the bills. This is what hedoes.That’s the only reason.That, at least, is what Reno always tells himself as he stares at Aerith from the darkness, watching as she glides through the streets of the slums, a flower reaching out for the tiniest ray of sun to break from the plate above.He’s hidden away, her secret bodyguard that isn’t quite so secret— the local thugs know not to come here, not to bother her—and Reno really can’t tell if it’s because she’sAerithor because he’sReno.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Reno
Comments: 23
Kudos: 79





	Light and Roses

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a simple girl with simple needs. If someone calls someone else a princess, even sarcastically, I ship it.
> 
> (To be fair, I've been shipping this for a couple years now, but I'm always happy to see more people in the same boat. These two absolutely fascinate me...)

She’s always been special.

It isn’t just the Ancients thing or the fact that she’s worth the life of every goddamn SOLDIER and Turk in Midgar to keep safe. It’s not the fact that there’s a Turk watching her 24/7 or that she’s probably the only thing that makes Reno feel like breathing in this underplate shithole. 

It’s just that she’s special, and always has been. 

Or, maybe the truth is that his heart has beat for her and her alone since his first shift watching her play in her flowers.

 _No. It’s just that Shinra gives a shit about her,_ Reno tells himself time and time again, but it's almost like the words have lost their meaning entirely. This is his job. This is what pays the bills. This is what he _does_. 

That’s the only reason.

That, at least, is what Reno always tells himself as he stares at Aerith from the darkness, watching as she glides through the streets of the slums, a flower reaching out for the tiniest ray of sun to break from the plate above. 

He’s hidden away, her secret bodyguard that isn’t quite so secret— the local thugs know not to come here, not to bother her—and Reno really can’t tell if it’s because she’s _Aerith_ or because he’s _Reno._

The entire Sector 5 slums knows Aerith, knows her sweet words and her kind hands. Whenever someone’s sick, they come to her. Whenever the children are scared, they find her. Whenever…

Whenever he’s there, they avoid coming too close, even though she’s reaching out to embrace them.

There’s a guilt in that, Reno knows. He’s the reason why they keep their distance, why none of the local guys have ever tried anything funny with her. There was that SOLDIER, but—

_He’s gone. He’s gone and I can’t even tell her why._

Watching that pain, tht deep and overwhelming sadness, had long-ago broken something in Reno that he didn’t even think he had, but with Aerith?

She pulls out the best of everyone around her. 

_Even if I don’t want her to,_ Reno thinks sourly as he glares from his respectable distance at one of the local guys—the materia shopkeeper who’s been working up the courage to ask Aerith out for months. He’s getting close, buying one of her flowers, but when he reaches out to touch her, he stops dead in his tracks and blinks, as though he’s remembering that he’s nothing but shit on the bottom of Reno’s shoe.

“Try it, fucker,” Reno whispers, and he’s not sure if the man hears it but he does know that the man’s arm goes down just as quickly as it had risen. “Just try it.” 

It’s almost a supernatural grace, a _feeling,_ that the Turks have, and even though he’s hidden from sight, he knows that the man can feel it. He _hopes,_ with more vindictiveness than he has any right to have, that it keeps the man from getting even closer, that he runs like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. 

And he should be scared, should be a stuttering mess, because him and Aerith? That’s definitely not going to happen, not if Reno has any say in it.

The man nearly falls over his feet running, and though he shouldn’t, Reno can’t stop himself from snickering, tapping his EMR on his shoulder. 

Aerith spins on her heel after the man’s run off, the flowers in her basket spilling in an arc around her. “You can’t keep scaring away my customers, Reno,” Aerith mutters, voice and mouth pinched.

“How’d you know it’s me, Princess?” Reno asks as he steps out from behind the shadows. He can’t stop himself from smiling, _really_ smiling, because Aerith deserves more than fakeness, more than… more than…

 _What I can give her._

Aerith crosses her arms in front of her, eyebrows drawn into a glare. 

“Hey, hey now, no need to look at me like that,” Reno jokes, holding his hands in front of him, the picture of a saint. He even bends his head to the side, giving a cheesy grin that usually works, but today? 

Today Aerith looks at his EMR, then back to him, then back to the EMR with absolute _fury_.

_Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned._

“How am I going to sell all my flowers if you keep antagonizing everyone? Reno. _Really_. He didn’t do anything wrong—” 

“Wrong-o, Princess—” 

“Stop calling me ‘Princess’,” Aerith says, but Reno’s response is to tuck his EMR back into his belt and languidly shrug like a kitten that got the mouse. “And he didn’t! Poor Jean…” 

“‘ _Poor Jean_ ,’” Reno mocks, lifting up both hands to steeple together and rest his head on. “How ever will he live without his flo—Aerith, Aerith! Wait, wait—okay, _fine_ , I was a little mean, but c’mon, it’s _me_!” 

She’s always been like this, ever since Reno started doing his rounds when he first joined the Turks. She’s a little spitfire, ready to run the minute she wants to make Reno’s heart fall out through his ass, and the last thing he can do is lose her or piss her off or… or… 

“C’mon, Princess, it’s way too dangerous for you to just go trapezing off into the distance just ‘cuz you’re pissed at me! Tseng’ll have my head—” 

“Good!” Aerith yells back before she turns, stomps one foot in anger, and returns, but it’s not for Reno. 

Of course it’s not for Reno—it’s for her damn flowers. She gets down on both knees, picking up as many flowers as she can with one arm. Aerith dumps them into the basket on her other arm before going in for another armful. “He _should_ have your head. You’ve been nothing but a complete _ass_ all day! That’s what—the third guy you’ve chased away today? Hmm?” Aerith pauses, the light reflecting off her making her seem otherworldly.

It lasts for just a moment, but that's all Reno ever needs to remember just how far away she really is. 

“I don’t get why you have to be so damn—so—so—” 

“Handsome?” 

Aerith blows out a large breath of air, and if looks could kill, Reno would’ve been dead ten times over.

“So awful!” 

Aerith always has a way of controlling her temper, of keeping calm under some of the worst things Reno could even imagine, but right now her cheeks are stained red and Reno can see her entire jaw quiver as she clamped down. If he was just a little more mako-enhanced, Reno knows he’d be able to hear her teeth grind. 

Reno’s not one to give up in the middle of the fight, but her hands are bunched and there’s something wet and _sad_ in her eyes, and Reno can’t deal with watching her cry. 

He just…

Can’t.

“Look, sis, if it bothers you that much, I’m sorry,” he says as he gets down on one knee, careful to not crush her flowers. It was the one, albeit small, comfort he could afford to give her. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I’m crying because I’m angry,” Aerith replies, though Reno can’t tell if she’s telling the truth or not. For being so damn _kind,_ Aerith’s a slum urchin, just like he is. “I’m not upset. I’m _not._ ”

“I know.” 

They’re both good liars, but it’s right there on her mouth. Whenever she lies, the corner dimples just so. Most people wouldn’t notice, but Reno does.

Of course Reno does. 

Reno picks up a handful of her flowers and presses them into her basket, gentle with them like they’re her heart. He can’t protect her from a broken heart, can’t protect her from the pain his lies have already caused, can’t protect her from _anything_ , really, but he can do this.

There’s one last flower, a single rose, and Reno is gentle as he cups it between his fingers. He can feel the thorn bite into his skin, but he makes sure to twist his hand so it breaks there, embedded in his thumb. 

At least this won’t hurt her. 

Reno slips it behind her ear before running his thumb over her lips, just against the ray of sunshine that's managed to escape the smog. There’s a bit of blood, not even a drop rubbed against them, and Reno doesn’t know how he should feel when her petal-pink tongue darts out to taste it. 

His hand rests there on her cheek, where it doesn’t belong, where it’s _never_ belonged, but Reno can’t stop himself. He can’t pull his hand back. 

She deserves more. She deserves better.

And Reno can feel it curdling in his guts—

Guilt. 

Impossible, immeasurable _guilt_. 

Reno pulls his hand away, because this is his job. He can’t mix those two, no matter how much he wishes he could. 

She’s always been special, always been just out of reach, just like the rays of sun against her skin.

“Are you okay?” Aerith asks, voice soft, unsure.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You still angry at me, Princess?”

“Yes.” 

But the look Aerith gives reminds Reno that they’re both good liars, but they can see right through one another.

Reno’s hand lingers like a memory, and he accepts it because this is how it’s always been.

This is how it’ll always be. 

“Then I guess that’s okay.” 

Even though he knows there'll be hell to pay, that Tseng or one of the weird fuckers from the labs would throw a shitfit and strap him to a gurney to take out some organ or another, Reno finds himself doing anything just to see her smile.

Just one minute, one _second,_ is worth it. 

"How 'bout this—I'll bring you topside, to that fountain up on Loveless Avenue. You can sell all your flowers, yeah? And we'll call it even?" 

And there it is, just the softest of smiles, and it's for no one but Reno.

"Fine, Reno." 

She's a rose blooming under a steel sky, and Reno will give her just enough light to survive.


End file.
